


Fire and Gold

by YouveGotAFiendInMe



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Gay, High School AU, M/M, Music, Prinxiety - Freeform, Slow Burn, dukeceit, logicality - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 13:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouveGotAFiendInMe/pseuds/YouveGotAFiendInMe
Summary: Virgil hates talking: that's his thing, and he tries desperately to get through high school with as little interaction with others as possible, but when the golden boy Roman Knightly makes him a deal to rid himself of having to take on a humiliating theater performance, Virgil gladly takes Roman up on his deal, not knowing that doing so sets up a chain reaction that will change his life forever.NSFW chapters will be clearly marked so you can skip over them if that isn't your thing, and other than the NSFW chapters, the rest of the fic will be decently clean save for maybe occasional making out.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Vomiting, general anxiety, panic attack

School was hell.

That was all that Virgil Shaw could think as he felt the familiar vice of panic grip at his chest. Surveying the cafeteria in an attempt to find somewhere to sit, he came up empty, and he cursed under his breath as he felt like him standing there idly would attract attention. Why did the school not keep enough tables indoors for days when the temperature went below 40°F?

Everyone knew that the students would abandon the metal tables that lay outside in favor of the warmth that the school provided on these cold days, and despite Virgil being safely swaddled in his usual black and purple plaid jacket, he knew the bite of the cold would be brutal in contrast to the previous day’s warmth, which had settled nicely at 70°F during midday. If it had just been cool outside with some sun, Virgil would have gladly overtaken the now abandoned courtyard, but clouds huddled tightly to cover the sun, leaving the outside as close to a wasteland as you could get in Texas during fall.

Without much of a choice left, Virgil pushed through the heavy doors and found a nice spot that shielded from the wind, nestled between a concrete wall and a large oak tree. He let his mind blank for the first time that day as he mindlessly pulled a sack lunch from his backpack. Classes had been boring, and he’d failed an art test. How the hell does someone fail at drawing a fucking bridge? He pondered as he tugged the velcro of his lunchbox apart, thrusting a hand in to rifle around. He knew the contents by touch, as he’d been the one to prepare it that morning since his older sister had a thesis to present, and therefore wasn’t around to pack one for him, so instead of the normal carefully made sandwich with a side of salad, Virgil had tossed an ice pack and two energy drinks in his bag. He’d already drank one to clear his foggy mind during his 10:00 History class, and he knew the one remaining would keep him awake for the rest of the school day.

Staying awake the night before wasn’t optional, he’d been completely unable to sleep and had tossed and turned in a futile attempt to coax his body into resting, but it didn’t work, so he instead had wedged a towel under his door to muffle any noise and got out his guitar to play. His sister slept like a log anyways, but he still had the mind to put a towel down to muffle the soft strum of the strings as he considered what he wanted to play, for if she woke, she’d make him sleep with his door open so she would know he wasn’t up, and Virgil loathed any loss of personal space or privacy.

He’d searched online for a tutorial and settled for a song by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, a song called Your Guardian Angel. Back in the day when he’d tried to put on a more tough persona, he’d considered the song his anthem. Of course, he’d also been a romantic idiot, he remembered with a roll of his eyes. Whatever the case, it didn’t take long to get the tune down, and he spent his entire night re-learning the lyrics, humming along quietly as he played.

Even now, as he sat cracking open a can of Monster Energy Drink, he silently mouthed the words before tipping the can up towards his lips to get a drink. A wince, then a sigh, as the familiar sharp taste hit his tongue. He didn’t drink them for the taste though, it was to keep enough energy buzzing through his body to endure the rest of his day, both in and out of school. Thinking back at the song he’d practiced the night before, he considered adding it to his SoundCloud. Yes. He was one of those types. The kind to sit in a room, playing guitar, and singing for nobody in particular, just for a mic that sat in front of him.

Not that he was bad, quite the contrary, and while he was no Freddie Mercury, he was pretty decent at it, and it was something he could put his energy and stress into. It also didn’t hurt that he had a few thousand listeners. 27,976 last time he’d checked, which had been only a few hours prior.

He continued to let these thoughts run through his head as he gathered his things before stepping into the heat of the cafeteria. His nose and fingertips had burned slightly at the sudden temperature change, but he welcomed the warmth as he drained the last of his drink, pitching the empty can into a waste bin a few feet away.

With his “lunch” finished, he figured he’d head to his next class. The one he dreaded. The required one.

Theater.

Performance arts. One was required at the very least, whether it be dance, flag guard, band, choir, or theater. After exhausting all options, and when Virgil realized he could never actually perform, but lucky for him, theater techs were part of the gig. Painting backgrounds, helping carry props. That was what Virgil could do, and he was happy to be invisible among the bustle of dramatic students practicing lines. The only problem, however, was that the teacher required one thing. Everyone had to take part in a play at least once, be that acting, singing, or playing live music, none of which sounded appealing to Virgil. He figured he’d try to be as inconspicuous as possible, hoping deep down the teacher would forget he existed like the rest of the school had, but Dr.Lauren seemed to scope him out the moment he stepped foot in her class.

He ignored the sound of the star quarterback loudly entertaining the masses in the back of the theater where class was held, rolling his eyes as people listened with anticipation at the obviously fabricated story, and Virgil settled for sitting as far to the right of the room as possible, drawing his knees to his chest in his chair as he absentmindedly tugged at a loose thread on his jeans.

It wasn’t so bad, he supposed. He could play a tree or with any luck, the floor. Being ignored was his strong suit, so he could blend in with the stage like some kind of emo chameleon, thus completing his required task while also avoiding being seen.

However, any chance at blending in was abruptly chased away as Dr.Lauren sauntered in the room, clad in pink heels that matched a pink dress that flowed around her like some sort of cotton candy colored smoke. She had in her arms a stack of stapled papers, and she happily distributed them among the students.

“We are auditioning for an original play that was created by our very own Roman Knightly! Plenty of parts to choose from, so you’re all auditioning.” She declared as she walked to Virgil, handing him a thick packet.

“I highlighted the lines of characters I feel you would do well as in each of your individual packets,” she continued as she walked up the rickety steps to the stage, “We’ll go by last name. Roman is taking the lead part, so if you have lines with him, be ready to come up.”

Virgil felt the familiar painful beats of his heart as a panic attack loomed over his hunched over figure, and he cursed himself for drinking two energy drinks, not doubting that they only contributed to his hammering pulse.

Calm down, you idiot. She gave you exactly five words of dialogue. Virgil scolded himself silently. Okay. Five words. He could do that, right? Surely he could, he would say them fast then throw himself off the stage and back into his own little corner of peace.

However, his confidence left him the moment he was called to stage, and his feet felt heavy as he walked up the stairs leading to the stage. Once on the stage he made brief eye contact with Dr.Lauren, who looked concerned, but Virgil looked away quickly as he held his lines of dialogue in front of him. A shaky breath in. Hold for seven seconds. He couldn’t make it past three before he had exhaled.

“Okay, go on ahead.” The teacher spoke, but her voice seemed distant.

Roman approached, not bothering to read the lines he knew by heart, “Excuse me, I’m a weary traveler in need of a place to rest. Are there any hotels around here or places that will board me?”

_No hotels, just empty barns_. Those were his lines. So why couldn’t he say them? His mouth felt dry, and all too wet all at the same time. He opened his mouth to speak as he felt the color drain from his face, and Roman looked ready to reach out.

“Oh my god, is he going to _puke_?” A snippy voice he recognized belonging to one of the cheerleaders that glued themselves to Roman asked from the audience.

That was _exactly_ what was going to happen.

Virgil had dropped the lines and was running for the bathroom before another word could be spoken, and he realized with a sick twist of his stomach that he might not make it, so instead, he threw the doors to the outside open and dropped to his knees, retching as nothing but a mixture of bile and energy drink came up. By the time he emptied his stomach, he was a shaking, crying mess.

When gentle hands were at his back he nearly jumped from his skin, but he managed to stop himself from whirling around and socking whoever was rubbing his back. A hand moved to hold his hair back, as his curls were dampened with sweat and sticking to his skin, and Virgil couldn’t remember the last time he’d been soothed like that.

He spit onto the ground and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, sniffling softly as his tears stopped falling. He knew he looked a mess, pale, shaking, and covered in a sheen of sweat, but he couldn’t find the energy to care. He slumped back against the person who had followed him out with a heavy sigh. He’d normally be embarrassed, but he was too tired to be.

“Stage fright?” A soft voice asked.

For a second, he didn’t recognize the voice, mainly because he’d only heard it being projected as loudly as possible for anyone nearby to hear, but now that it took on a gentler edge, it was much deeper and more appealing to listen to.

“Roman?” Virgil grumbled.

“Here to be your knight in shining… Varsity jacket?” He finished with a small laugh, “Come on, I’ll walk with you to the nurse.”

“Don’t think I can walk. Gimme a minute to-”

Virgil didn’t get to finish, he was scooped up like a bride in one smooth motion, and his face was pressed to the chest of the Drama Prince himself. For a long second, he couldn’t think, but when he did, he made a noise of annoyance.

“Do you always peel people off the sidewalk?”

Roman shrugged, walking back towards the building, motioning for Virgil to open the door. When he did, Roman stepped inside of the warmth of the school again, refusing to put Virgil down, who squirmed slightly in discomfort.

“Only if the person looks fresh out of Hot Topic.” Roman teased gently.

“Man, have you got a weird type.” Virgil snorted as he found himself nestling against Roman’s warmth, an arm thrown around Roman’s shoulder for support.

“It’s an acquired taste.” Roman joked as he continued walking. Despite Virgil only weighing in at 150lbs, he was surprised Roman wasn’t winded or stopping for breaks.

“Might want to let the cheer squad know.” Virgil mused, eyes fluttering closed as he tried to fight off sleep.

“Nah. They’re not my type.” Roman responded.

“Could be if they got some eyeliner and fringe.”

“Eh. The cheerleaders are nice and all, but they’re girls.” Roman explained.

Virgil, even through the haze of sleepiness, pulled away slightly and raised a brow, “You? Roman Knightly? You took a girl to homecoming.”

Roman grinned, and damn if he didn’t have a great smile, “Family friend whose date ditched her last minute. I had a ticket and a tux, so I figured I’d take her.”

Virgil shrugged and returned to resting his head on Roman’s chest, “Learn something new every day, I guess.”

“Mhm. For example, I didn’t know that you could speak before today.”

Virgil fought the urge to roll his eyes, “I just don’t like attention.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to sulk in the corner of the room looking like you sucked on a lemon.”

Virgil found himself pulling away, his voice growing higher in pitch as he defended himself, “I don’t sulk!”

Roman set Virgil down on a bench, and Virgil thought Roman was going to leave, but instead he crouched in front of Virgil, “How about this. You hang out with me and my friends for a month, and if by the end of the month you feel like talking to people is still a death sentence, I’ll convince Dr.Lauren to give you a job that will fill in the gap of the mandatory performance. But, if you feel better, I want you to at least try something for the next play. Deal?” Roman asked as he offered his hand.

Virgil pondered it. A month. School was five days a week, times the four weeks in a month meant 20 days. He could handle that. Then, he’d be rid of the ridiculous participation grade, and be free to arrange set pieces to his heart’s content.

Virgil reached forward and grasped Roman’s hand, grinning as the two shook on it, “You’ve got yourself a deal, Roman Knightly.”


	2. 2

Virgil laid flat on his back in bed, staring at his ceiling in silence as he drummed his fingers against the quilt that he had lying over him. He’d not expected the rest of the previous day to pass in a blur as Roman took him to the nurse who immediately sent Virgil home to rest. He’d gone to bed as soon as he got home, not even bothering to get himself something to drink, and had woken hours later with a headache.

His sister had come home, and after she got him to tell her what had happened, she made him a dinner of soup and bread then made him rest for the remainder of the evening. After that, Virgil finally found himself tired and fell asleep at seven o’clock at night, only to wake just as the sun began to rise at six.

Now he was listening to the sounds of the house as he considered getting up a little early so he could rollerblade to school, and finally, with a heavy sigh, he forced himself from bed.

He trudged to the bathroom, flicking the light on with a slight wince. He caught his reflection in the mirror, hair a mess, sticking up in various places, and the makeup he didn’t wipe away had smeared. He snatched a makeup wipe from the drawer of his vanity and wiped his face clean as he turned the hot water on to bathe. Once in the shower he hummed quietly, letting the hot water fall over his tense shoulders.

It only took him ten minutes to finish showering, and he got out quickly, pulling on a plush, purple robe that hung on a hook attached to the door before brushing his teeth. One look in the mirror and Virgil shook his head, plugging his hair dryer and flat iron in before getting to work detangling his shoulder length curls. Once he brushed and dried his hair, he straightened it with a slight grimace as he heard the sound of hair sizzling. He knew he was killing his hair, but curly hair did not suit him, and he knew that for a fact.

Once he finished up with his hair, which he noted needed to be dyed soon due to his blonde roots showing, he used a bit of hair spray to keep the locks from curling or getting frizzy. Foundation and concealer came next, covering the freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks, only to be followed by powder to set the liquid makeup. Black eyeshadow and eyeliner were smeared around his eyes messily, and he grinned at his reflection, noting how much older he looked now.

Tossing his glasses onto the counter without much care, he popped his contact lenses in before checking in the mirror for any stray hair or missed freckles, and when he saw that he hadn’t seen any flaws, he stepped into his room.

Settling for ripped skinny jeans and a tank top, Virgil tugged his outfit on before completing it with the black hoodie he’d owned for over five years. He pressed his nose to the fabric and inhaled, noting with joy that his sister had washed it for him the night before and now it smelled like fabric softener.

Virgil scooped his bag up and went to the kitchen to search for something small to snack on, as he felt a slight pang of hunger. He decided that toast would suffice, and popped two slices of bread into the toaster as he rifled through the cupboards to find the Nutella. Once located, he poured himself a glass of milk and waited for the toaster to finish, thinking back to the previous day and the promise he had made.

Roman Knightly. Four weeks. It would be bad, yes, but not terrible. He’d make excuses whenever he could, and settle for eating in the library while working on classwork. Then his interactions with Roman would be limited to class, and the two only shared two classes, theater and math, and Virgil couldn’t imagine Roman moving from the front of the classroom to the back row where Virgil kept to himself, so it would be fine.

Smearing Nutella onto his toast, Virgil kicked the fridge open and was pleasantly surprised to see his sister had made him a lunch the night before consisting of a salad, some soup, a slice of cake, and a bottle of apple juice. She’d never really thought to do things like that, to make sure that Virgil would definitely have something for lunch, she usually just made him one if he was still at the house by the time she made her own. He took the lunchbox from the fridge and added an ice pack before eating his toast, washing it down with his glass of milk.

By the time he left the house, he was nearly giddy with anticipation. He hadn’t been rollerblading in months, and he was looking forward to it. He had an extra pair of shoes in his backpack, and he pulled the skates on before he began making his way to school.

The wind was cold, though not as cold as the day before, and he found himself smiling at the sensation of his skin being caressed by the air. Why hadn’t he done this? It was so… Freeing. A laugh of glee pushed past his lips and he sped up with a grin. When he reached school, his cheeks were flushed pink, and his eyes were wide and alert. He pulled the rollerblades off then tugged his converse on. He got inside where the school was just beginning to fill and made his way to his locker to put his skates up.

Once his skates and lunch were in his locker, he sat in a back stairwell and scrolled through Tumblr on his phone. His favorite blogger had updated, and he made sure to send them plenty of love as he himself loved when people complimented his music or his art.

When he heard someone sit beside him, a shiver went up his spine and he jumped, hiding his screen from the newcomer.

“Hey, calm down, Panic at the Everywhere, it’s just me.” Roman laughed as he settled beside Virgil on the stairs.

Virgil blinked twice, then shook his head and looked back down with a mumble of, “Sorry.”

“For what? I’m the one that scared you.” Roman pointed out.

Virgil gave a one shouldered shrug as he exited Tumblr, sliding his phone into his back pocket, “I dunno, I was about to deck you.”

Roman tossed his head back as he laughed, and hell if it wasn’t one of the most attractive things Virgil had seen. Virgil looked away before the crowned Prince could make him blush, instead picking lint from his jeans.

“What are you listening to?” Roman asked Virgil as he leaned over and took the earbud that hung down from where he had the other one in his ear, and Virgil almost told Roman to stop, but Roman quickly put the earbud in and cocked his head to the side with a smile.

“I know this song! It’s from that YouTuber, Gabbie Hanna, right? This cover is good, where did you find it?” Roman spoke excitedly.

Virgil knew he couldn’t say that the raspy voice that Roman heard was his own, or that it was from his SoundCloud, as he knew the moment it was found out he’d be the laughingstock of the school, so he settled for the lame response of, “Oh. Uh. Just… Someone sent it to me.”

“Can you text it to me? This dude has a crazy voice.” Roman mused as he continued to listen.

Virgil felt himself freeze. He’d been told by hundreds of people online that his music was good, but never once had he heard someone besides his sister speak highly of it in his personal life. He suddenly realized Roman was staring, and he blinked once.

“Uh, yeah. Sure, what’s your number?” Virgil asked as he tugged his phone from his pocket.

Once he sent Roman his SoundCloud link, and Roman thanked him, he felt his heart pounding in his chest, but it wasn’t the pounding of an anxiety attack on the brink, and it wasn’t something that left him feeling dread, it was exhilarating. _Someone liked his music. Roman Knightly liked his music._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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